


you like me a little (but a little's a lot)

by imgoingtocrash



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, General Plot of RO Adapted to the AU, Rated M for Sexy Makeouts and What Happens During Them, RebelCaptain May the Fourth Exchange, Rival Gangs AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18724663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imgoingtocrash/pseuds/imgoingtocrash
Summary: Of all the things that Jyn shouldn’t be doing, this one…this one is really,reallyup there. (And there are many things that she does on a daily basis that one would likely say she shouldn’t do, considering the whole Saw’s Right-Hand Woman of the Partisans thing, so that’s saying something.)In a world where the Partisans and Rebels are rival gangs fighting to take control of the city away from a corrupt police force, Jyn and Cassian find themselves getting along much better than expected, and things get a little heated.





	you like me a little (but a little's a lot)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xyz0608](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyz0608/gifts).



> This fic is for Xyz0608 (starxdust22 on Tumblr) for The Rebelcaptain Network’s 2019 May The 4th Gift Exchange. Their prompt was “rival gangs au, sharks-and-the-jets style; or mutual pining/protectiveness and teasing” so I took the rival gangs au part and added to it her smutty request of Cassian and Jyn taking turns while pleasing each other.
> 
> I’m going to be real with you, here: a LOT of the world-building and plot stuff here was absolutely just to set up The Scene and I regret nothing because I don’t have time to flesh out an entire AU, but I DO have time for sexy, sexy make-out sessions in that setting. Also, I tried adding more plot to it, and honestly it kind of ruined the vibe of it just being what it is, so I’m letting it go.
> 
> Title from Gun Shy by Matthew Mayfield. Enjoy!

Of all the things that Jyn shouldn’t be doing, this one…this one is really, _really_ up there. (And there are many things that she does on a daily basis that one would likely say she shouldn’t do, considering the whole Saw’s Right-Hand Woman of the Partisans thing, so that’s saying something.)

It’s not like she expected to find herself in this position. Meetings with the Rebels were ordinary—they proposed a temporary alliance, sometimes Saw agreed, most times he didn’t. They were technically rivals, after all. They only put their rivalry aside every few years to out some new collection of morons who thought Yavin was their city, and tried to kill Partisans and Rebels alike to reach their goal.

But the Rebels were always trying some new angle—they seemed to tire of the long-standing rivalry while Saw and the rest of the Partisans reveled in it. They _wanted_ to fight the Rebels over who could go into which buildings, which drugs were okay to spread around street corners. It wasn’t really a day in Yavin if you didn’t see a Rebel and Partisan arguing in the streets (or escalating to a physical argument in some back alley).

And that was fine with Jyn— _is_ fine with Jyn. She’s been at Saw’s side unflinchingly since she was a child. He took her in as an orphan and protected her. He became her family when her parents were killed by the most corrupt of Yavin’s police force. She hasn’t changed her mind about being a Partisan—about being more violent, being more defiant, showing those bastards who truly ran the city and protected the people.

It’s just…Cassian Andor. He’s the most picture-perfect Rebel out there, in theory. Colored rank-signifying pin shining clean, put together despite the hand-me-down pseudo-uniform reminiscent of the former military members that originally created the Rebels. He walks into the abandoned warehouse—so damaged from a fire that neither gang will claim it as territory—with a calm sort of no-nonsense confidence.

She walks up to him. He meets her in the middle. Their seconds and other assorted crew gather behind them, hands on pistols or knives. She waits for the offer—give them weapons to break someone unimportant out of prison, finance a job that will ultimately lead to nothing being changed. The Rebels are ineffective and have far too much heart to even be considered a gang in many ways. If she hadn’t seen some of their most formidable in combat, she probably would have tried to convince Saw to overtake them a long time ago.

Instead of any of her theories, Cassian looks to her and says “We need your help.”

Jyn snorts. “Yeah, that’s the general reason for these little meetings.”

“Let me be more specific: we need you, Jyn Erso.”

At that she falters. No one in the Partisans knows her real last name. She’d taken Saw’s as soon as he’d signed the adoption papers. It was to protect her from any further police harassment, to save her from a quick, unexplainable death too.

Her father isn’t dead, after all, though. That’s what Cassian came to tell her. He’s a police informant, kept under their lock and key to make crime scenes cleaner or messier and cover up anything they don’t want getting out. Her father was a lab tech, he knew what got rid of blood, made evidence disappear. And he’d been doing it all this time for those bastards that she’s been fighting against almost all of her life.

Cassian needs her, because her father’s tattling to the Rebels now. Not to the Partisans, housing his own daughter, but the goddamn _Rebels_. About some new initiative to get both gangs off the streets.

In that moment, she doesn’t care. She turns around and walks out of the warehouse without another word. Fumes to the questioning stares of the other Partisans the whole way home. She gets into a screaming match with Saw—did he know? How long? What the hell is she supposed to do about it, anyway?

And that seemed like the end of it. And if it was, maybe she wouldn’t be where she currently is.

 

But then Cassian had called again. 

And again, and again. 

She’d met with him in private that first time, knives tucked into both of her boots, a gun carefully holstered under her jacket. It was on her own turf—a dive bar where the Partisans collected a regular protection fee and in exchange ended up hanging out at quite often. She was sipping a beer slowly, trying to look intimidating where she was leaning against the bar. Maybe Cassian and the Rebels thought they needed her, but she sure as shit didn’t need them. One word she didn’t like, any violent action, and she was planning to be gone, or she’d shoot Andor dead on the spot to give herself an escape.

Except, that first meeting is where she starts to trust Cassian, against all of her usual instincts. He came to the meeting armed too—he’d listed every weapon on his person and even offered to let her pat him down to be sure. He’d grabbed the seat next to her and ordered a scotch on the rocks like they were really there just to grab drinks and chat.

He’d looked at her and apologized, right from the gate. “I’m sorry if I surprised you, at the meeting. It wasn’t intentional. I thought…I’d hoped that you knew he was alive.”

“I may have…suspected, at some point,” she admitted. She had researched her parents’ deaths, time and time again. They’d never reported her father’s body next to her mother’s, bleeding out on the kitchen tile. “But I _liked_ to think he was dead. Imagine working for those pigs—it’s probably worse than death.”

Cassian nodded. “I was in the police academy, for a time. It’s…they make people think they’re doing the right thing.” Cassian looked to her, as if he was trying to convince her. “I know your people believe in doing anything for the cause, but a lot of those men and women…they don’t realize they’re on the wrong side.”

She scoffed, but the look on Cassian’s face made her wonder. He was a Rebel, through-and-though—he’d have to be, to be one of the higher ranked leaders. But Rebels were a sneaky bunch, more subtle. It’s possible they sent in a spy or two back before the police became more careful about picking and choosing recruits.

“For what it’s worth—it doesn’t matter that you blew the meeting. It doesn’t change anything. I can’t help you.”

“Jyn—“

“No. I’m not like the Rebels. I’m barely like the other Partisans. I do what I do for money, and to make Saw happy. Helping my father isn’t going to bolster either of those causes. So I think we’re done here.” She’d gotten up to leave, but Cassian had the audacity—the bravery—to grab her arm.

“What if I—“ Cassian stopped himself, letting her go. “At least let me buy you a drink. To formally apologize.”

“If this is some trick—some attempt to ease me into helping, it won’t work,” she’d said.

But Cassian had been firm that it was simply a curtesy drink.

Then they started exchanging stories, about their time with other Rebels, other Partisans, fighting Yavin’s cops for their own reasons. One drink became two, and then three, and she’d gotten home pleasantly buzzed and with Cassian’s number in her pocket.

 

So, really, it was that night that got her into so much trouble. Because she’d gotten bored of her fellow Partisans crudely binge-drinking and carrying on as a bonding activity a few days later, and asked him to meet up somewhere a little more quiet.

And they’d done it again—a few drinks, getting to know each other better—and she was finding herself leaning into that trusting instinct at least by half. She didn’t bring as many weapons. His gun was missing from his holster. They don’t bring up her father, or Cassian’s proposal. They just…click, in this indescribable way that she’s never had before, even with Saw. He’s so like her—flawed and hopeful underneath the darkness of their lives and the actions they take in their respective groups.

 

So really, by the time she makes a move, it’s actually long overdue. They’ve been having secret meetings for months when the Rebels call another session with the Partisans. And Jyn just happens to show up early behind the warehouse, where Cassian shows up, because she texted him to do so.

Cassian thinks it’s innocent, at first. “Is there something you wanted to discuss without the others present? I know Saw is coming today. Organa told me she would be attending as well, so I was wondering if you’d reconsidered—mmph—“

That’s when Jyn kisses him. She hasn’t really reconsidered at all. She doesn’t know what the hell about the Rebels finally caught Saw’s ear, but she doesn’t care. She’s just realized that if some part of this works out—if Saw starts to trust the Rebels again—she and Cassian will probably be spending a lot more time together. And for the first time in a very long time, she wants to spend time with someone else.

Though more specifically, she wants Cassian to spend time with her like this, and possibly with their clothes off.

She breaks the kiss, eyes searching Cassian’s. Maybe she was wrong to assume—to hope. Maybe this isn’t like that for him.

But then Cassian kisses her, enthusiasm clear, hands insistent against her ass and thighs and pushing her into the worn brick of the warehouse. The fabric of her Partisans jacket catches on the wall, and she ignores it to put more of herself into Cassian’s hold. He seems pretty insistent on putting his mouth on that spot on her collarbone, _yes please_ , and they don’t have long before they need to be inside the warehouse instead of leaning themselves into it.

He sucks, bites—J _esus_ , he’s going to give her a mark, he better be low enough.

Her thoughts only stray to imagine Saw catching her essentially dry-humping a _Rebel_ , of all people, for a second until Cassian has quickly gotten his hand under her shirt, the cold, weathered skin of his hand moving up and down her back, teasing at her bra strap—Jesus, even if it were a quick one they don’t really have the time, maybe he’s just enjoying showing her what’s to come, if she’s lucky. (And she’s planning on being _very_ lucky, thank you.)

As if he knows she’s counting their minutes together in her head, Cassian moves his hands to her front, pushing open the top buttons of her shirt to move his mouth down to her chest. God, she kind of picked the worst and best wardrobe for this—ill-fitting flannel isn’t her most sexy, but it’s warm in the middle of the gloomy fall weather and the buttons are giving him just the right amount of access to the top of her half-exposed, goose-bumped chest.

He uses the hand not against her back to push against her breast—it’s a light sweep and quick press of his knuckle but it does the job even through the fabric, and she moans into his kiss appreciatively.

However, since she’s one to give as good as she gets, she pulls on Cassian insistently. “Easy,” she hums deceptively into his ear. He pulls back, lowering her off the wall—he’d half picked her up, damn—just enough for her to turn the tables on him. She flips him against the wall instead, smirking when he looks down at her a little surprised, but the pressure against her thigh indicates he’s pleased.

He grunts when she takes a turn at running her own hands up his back, tracing a line against Cassian’s sharp shoulders with her fingernails, bitten at and sharp when she presses half-moons into his skin. His breath is warm against her cold ear.

She takes to the opposite side of his neck—way too high to be anything _but_ a hickey if it shows—and revels in his pulse beating harder, at the tug of him balling up the back of her shirt in his fist when she bites instead of kisses.

“You’re full of surprises, Jyn,” he hums, bringing her back for another kiss, distractedly rubbing his hand back and forth on the outside of her thigh.

“You too,” she says, then jokes, “You’re good, you know, for a Rebel.” Before he can make any kind of retort, she teases him, a quick stroke of her hand on the outside of his pants, pulling back out of his reach when he leans into her. “Speaking of, I believe we have a meeting to get to?”

“You’ll pay for that one, Erso,” he warns with a shake of his head, tucking his shirt into his pants hastily to cover up how throughly she’s roughed him up. He’ll absolutely be late, and she’ll treasure every minute of it.

“I better,” she replies, buttoning her shirt and adjusting her bun to its normal level of messy before giving him a wink that hopefully teases exactly how she wants to be repaid when this possibly futile meeting comes to a close.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this is so short compared to exchange works I’ve done before, but like I said, the make-out scene was just the sole important point of this fic and prompt to me because I couldn’t get it out of my head. I hope you like it! I’ve loved talking to you!
> 
> As always, comments, kudos, and bookmarks are appreciated!


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